Scars
by Amongst-Azarath
Summary: Scars. Imperfections of the skin. However, to Blair they're something quite different. They uncover pasts and unlock secrets. For two bladers, their own scars bring them closer together. KaixOC
1. Scars

I can't really say much. I don't really know how this came about. As per usual, a lot of mistakes and things that don't make sense :). Enjoy!

_Disclaimer:_ I don't own beyblade.

_Full Summary:_ Scars. Imperfections of the skin. However, to Blair they're something quite different. They unlock the secrets of the past and add the final pieces to a puzzle. They share memories and create common ground, for the most uncommon people. For two bladers, their own scars bring them closer together.

_P.S: _'Kicks' are street shoes :).

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_Scars_

Her small, gentle hand touched the gruesome looking skin poking out from the bottom of his white singlet. The light pink skin and twisted flesh had caught her eye. Her eyes didn't look with shock, sadness or disbelief. They looked with… he couldn't quite put his finger on it, but it was as if she knew… understood almost. Well, she had one herself.

His eyes dropped to the scar as he gripped the bottom of his singlet. He pulled it up a little, giving her a small glance of only a minor portion of the scar. She pulled her hand away and looked along his back. She knew there was more. _But how?_

Suddenly the impulse came over him to take his shirt off. He froze, unsure what to do. She was interested. Deeply. Her eyes begged for him to continue. He went against what his head was telling him and pulled the white singlet over his head and dropped it to the floor beside him. He turned his back to her, revealing the grotesque, twisted skin that carved its way from his front hip, across his side and all the way up his back to his opposite shoulder.

There was no gasp, no movement.

"I don't remember when, how or who," he said faintly, silently thanking that he didn't. "But I can only guess," he finished, more surely this time. _Boris._ He breathed in and out, slowly and surely, and she watched as his back muscles flexed and stretched, compressing and expanding. She was so quiet.

Her Azure blue eyes looked at him. Her long platinum hair was curled and cascaded beautifully down her back. She wore little make up and was dressed down in a black singlet, tight blue jeans and a pair of white kicks. He watched her hand slowly reach towards his body. She looked at the scar again.

She touched it and a shiver made its way up his spine. He didn't flinch or move. He wasn't sure why. However, he didn't want to move away. The touch was nice, weirdly enough. No one had ever touched it before. She glided her finger tips from the bottom all the way to the top. Silently, he watched her gently follow the carving.

"I was there when you got it," she spoke suddenly, looking into his eyes. _What?_

She walked backwards to the couch, not taking her eyes off him. Gently, she folded one leg under the other and sat on the suede sofa. He stayed for a moment, trying to comprehend what she had said. His eyes dropped to the floor, confused. He then turned, forgetting about his shirt, and taking a seat on the brown sofa beside her.

His ruby eyes looked into her Azure ones. She swallowed. "You had beaten Dylan," she began, trying to recall the beginning of the memory. "You were both exceptionally young," she added before going on. "He had fallen in the battle and he shattered two bones in his wrist," she frowned, creating creases on her forehead. She then squinted for a moment. "He was crying and moaning… and," she raised her eyebrows in surprise, "something compelled you to help him up."

"Boris stomped over, grabbed your arm and pulled you off the boy. He let you go, and threw Dylan off the podium to the guards below." Her eyebrows raised again in surprise. "Somehow you grabbed your blade and loaded it in your launcher. When Boris turned around you were aiming straight for his face."

He smiled to himself. That sounded like him. Always sticking up for others and getting himself into situations where he would be the one suffering. Always.

"He warned you… and you did it," she smiled a little, changing her focus to the Russian, "He put his arm to his face, just in time though." She looked at him with a bigger smile. "He was bleeding all the way from the back of his hand to his elbow," she paused, "gave him some nerve damage too."

He smiled to himself again. Lucky it didn't all go to waste.

"Then he… did totally something unexpected." She changed her gaze again. She was now looking at the Indian rug on the floor. "He pulled out a knife," her tone suddenly melancholy. "He'd never gone this far before," she whispered faintly.

She swallowed, bringing herself back to reality. The images were now flashing before her eyes. "He grabbed you and threw you to the ground. He got on top of you…"

Kai shuddered. She paused, letting the sentence dissipate in the air. She took a breath in, noticing Kai's sudden movement. His contact with her was broken, signifying that he wasn't ready. It was a lot to take in, she knew. This thought threw her back into the memory. Her eyes slid out of focus. She collapsed into the back of the couch with dazed eyes. She was about to continue, even if he wasn't ready.

"He ripped off your shirt and carved his knife into you," she bit her lip, "All the way from your hip to your shoulder."

Silence.

The two of them sat there. Blair, looking into the distance and Kai, looking at her. He could see it was hurting her, bringing up all these memories, but he needed to know. Tala, Bryan and Spencer had only told him that he didn't turn up to training for a few days. When he did, he was heavily bandaged; soaking blood outlined the new scar.

She could see it happening, replaying again and again in her brain, and he had no memory of it. She could see the shiny blade making slashes in the young boy's skin. She could see the blood oozing down his back and creating a small pool around his knees. She could see the pain in the boys face. She could see his desperate attempts to keep the sound from flowing out of his mouth.

He couldn't see any of this, and he was thankful. He could only imagine. Imagine Boris digging a knife into the young Russians skin and watching blood seep from the wound. He held a child down, and cut through muscle to teach a child a lesson. His breath deepened, as he tried to keep it under control. His heart rate increased. His mind flew over imagines of his younger self dripping with blood. It was oozing down in his back, thick and crimson. Whilst Boris stood there, covered in blood and the same smirk on his freak show face.

He could imagine the laugh and stance. Those deep eyes evilly looking down upon him. He could imagine the way he thought he was proud of himself and that he had scarred the young child for life. That he could do it again and – a hand touched his arm.

"I'm sorry," she apologised, seeing the emotions stuck together like a puzzle on his face. His eyebrows knitted together in frustration, his eyes ruby eyes burning, confessing pain and his mouth open slightly conveying disbelief.

His train of thought was broken, which was a good thing. Who knows what would have happened with him just sitting there, brooding, boiling… waiting. He stopped himself this time.

However, there was one thing he had to know. Desperately.

"Did I cry?" He asked as all the emotions slid from his features. He now looked, accepting?

She looked at him and then smiled. "No."

He scoffed a little, a smile coming to his face. Even as a child, he wouldn't give Boris the satisfaction of him being able to control the dual haired blader. He felt… proud?

A comfortable silence grew over them, contently sitting next to each other. His eyes drifted, trying to find a place for this new piece of the puzzle that was his past. Her eyes stayed on him.

"It suits you," she said, all of a sudden, reaching for the scar again.

He smiled softly. He watched her hand touch it gently. He liked how she was so entranced by it. "Sorry," she apologised again, "I can't reach my own." His smile faded quickly as realisation flooded over him like a wave. She couldn't feel her own scar. She couldn't see her own scar. But, it was there.

Slowly, his hand reached out, touching her shoulder. She watched without judgement as he moved closer, and sent his hand down her back, under the soft fabric of her singlet. He felt the twisting knots and bubbles of the skin. He smiled, finding it funny that he also was engrossed by a simple scar a simple imperfection of one's skin.

She smiled too, closing her eyes. He tried to trace the scar, but his hand movements were restricted. Not to mention her lacy bra, by what he felt, was blocking the path. She moved, and he slid his hand back out of her shirt in courtesy.

She moved herself so her back was facing him now. He watched carefully as she pulled her shirt over her head and let it drop to the dark floorboards beside the couch. His eyes carefully studied the edges of sick scar in front of him. She pulled her platinum hair to one side, letting it droop over her left shoulder. She pulled down the back strap of her bra to reveal the scar.

Biovolt. In straight lined capital letters. He swallowed, tracing the scar carefully, as she had. She closed her eyes, enjoying the feeling of touch on the scar. A forbidden area. Those who knew, never touched. It was nice to feel that part of her skin, no matter how much she wished it wasn't there.

"I don't even know how I got to that point," she spoke softly. "One minute, it was under control and the next it wasn't." He stopped tracing the scar, letting his hand rest of the suede fabric of the sofa.

"I was being a brat as usual, refusing to do tasks, refusing to fight," She shrugged. " He knew how vital I was to Biovolt. I was ranked within the top five, so I was apparently told."

"He always kept pushing, because he knew what I could do," She rolled her neck in a circle, some of the bones cracking in her neck.

He kept gazing at the scar. "He slapped me exceptionally hard one day, and for the first time, I retaliated. I spat at him," a frown developed on her face. He looked down, as if remembering. He knew how much Boris disliked respect.

"He grabbed my arm and dragged me through the double doors. He got on me like he had with you," she stopped, swallowing hard. He knew the tears were welling up in her eyes, threatening to spill. He wasn't sure how to react. Should he reach out for comfort? Should he leave her be?

She opened her mouth slightly. "He pulled out the same knife and carved that into my skin," she looked over her shoulder at the Russian, "through the fabric of my shirt."

She coughed, disguising the choke that was building in her throat. "He told me that I could never forget this place; that I was part of the corporation, bound to it. Showing disrespect towards Biovolt meant that I was showing disrespect to myself. He told me me that I would die before I forgot the Abbey."

Those words were sickening to hear. Boris had carved the corporations name into a child's back for showing disrespect. A feeling of guilt washed over him, knowing that he had started this somehow. If he hadn't of launched his blade at Boris, she would be scar free, and so would he. She wouldn't be experiencing the night terrors. She wouldn't be scarred for life. How could he not remember his experiences in the Abbey?

Suddenly, his hand touched her back. He frowned, not sure if it was the right thing to do, but he kept it there.

She smiled again, "He tossed me outside into the snow, with just those horrible black waisted pants and those slip shoes on." He was now gently caressing her back.

She swallowed, her features softening. "Then you came." He paused. She could feel his confusion. "You took me back inside the abbey and wrapped your scarf around my back. You took me to your bunk and kept me warm all night." She turned her gaze to him.

For some reason, Kai wished he had remembered things like this. Things that were evident that he was a good person, that he did have a heart, that he was loyal, that he did care. His hand was tracing her scar again, urgent for her to continue. She was one big part of his past. She was giving him major pieces to his puzzle.

"You took me back to my bunk in the morning, and told me to be careful. You said you were leaving." She stopped. "And you did."

She had unlocked a key part to his past. The history of his famous scar, when he left the Abbey and the history between the two. Was this really who he was when he was younger? He felt like he was somehow complete. He was the same person back then as he is now. He still had the same morals, he still cared and still acted the same. For the first time, he was proud of himself. He was proud that he had come out of the Abbey with such a personality. He wasn't brain washed. He was Kai. He was a _whole_ person.

"I escaped a few weeks later," she smiled, seeing the one on his face.

She knew she had revealed a lot to him. Things that he couldn't remember. Things that confirmed that he was exactly how he was when he was younger. Which was true. He was exactly the same, now, just older and more intelligent. The realisation on his face was incredible to watch. His emotions were on the outside for once, revealing exactly what he felt on the inside.

He looked at her again. She was slightly a taken back. The realisation was still there. "Thank you," he said softly.

Silence grew again. The contentment of the two filled the room. They sat there, amazed at themselves. Things were now, finally, at the surface. Neither of them had any secrets now. _Well, maybe just one._

"Where did you go?" He questioned suddenly, looking up at her again.

She turned back around to face the Russian, she too forgetting that they were both shirtless. "I… went back to Australia," she seemed to have trouble remembering. "I don't remember how I got there, but I did," she spoke softly. Thinking about it, she was amazed she got back to her home country at such a young age by herself.

"I went into an orphanage and was luckily enough to be adopted," she grinned this time. After all this, she realised how lucky she was. How lucky they were. So did Kai.

The Russian didn't realise how close they were either, or that they still had their shirts off for that matter. Ruby eyes met Azure ones. Soon they opposite shades were closed, and a pair of pale pink lips met.

He just kissed her. He had skipped the part of thinking before acting, even the thought for that matter. Impulse. This is where it led him. A tongue pushed through lips, and the kiss was deepened. His hand touched her waist, and something began. Her hand ran through his thick, dual coloured tresses. She leaned back and he leaned forward.

His mind was blank. He was in the moment and he just couldn't stop himself. She was laying on the couch now, the Russian on top. His toned forearms were placed either side of her head, stopping his upper body from crushing hers.

One hand caressed his cheek, whilst the other graced his chest. His strong hand softly brushed her cheek before sliding up the side of her face and entangling itself in her long locks.

"Kai!"

Both eyes widened in horror. Their lips parted quickly. Kai was off the couch and floundering for his singlet. Blair reached for hers in haste and quickly pulled it over her head. She looked toward the Russian, who was struggling to find which side was right.

She leaped towards him, grasping the tag that she had spotted. Quickly, she helped him pull his singlet over his head.

"What are you two doing?" Tala. He stood at the door frame, with one eyebrow cocked and his arms crossed over his chest.

"We were discussing moves," Kai commented coolly, his mask slowly fading back on. _He didn't step away._

"Huh," He red head nodded, disapprovingly. He began his quick paced walk through the lounge and to the kitchen.

"What are you doing?" Kai threw the question back, along with a glare.

The Russian grabbed the door frame. "Getting some vodka my friend," he grinned with a wink before raising his eyebrows and disappearing into the next room.

She looked at him, unsure of what to say or do. He looked at her, feeling a little flustered. She just helped him put his shirt on… they were _shirtless_… they _kissed_?

Her eyes slid out of focus and her gaze dropped to the floor. A piece of her platinum hair fell over her face. Two of her soft, pale fingers touched her pink lips. She looked up at him. A soft smile was playing on his lips. Her hand dropped from her face and reached for his hip, playing with that familiar piece of imperfect skin. She didn't know if she was doing the right thing, but he wasn't objecting.

"I should go," she whispered, looking to his Ruby eyes.

He nodded slowly, shifting the piece of hair that covered a part of her face with two fingers.

With one last smile, she let her hand slide from his skin. She turned, heading for the door frame and Tala had appeared from. She grabbed the frame and took one last look. He was still there, looking at her. She let her hair fall over her face and continued to the front door.

He heard the faint click of the front door shutting. _Fuck. _He ran a hand through his soft tresses and wondered into the kitchen. An expression of lost was evident on his features. His Ruby eyes were out of focus, lost deep in his thoughts. _What was that?_ He didn't know, but he would do it all again in a heartbeat.

There was a cough. The Phoenix looked up. It was the wolf. A smug expression crossed his face, as he leaned against the bench with one hand. The other hand catered a glass of vodka and something.

"All I'm going to say is, Holy fuck Kai," The Red head grinned, taking a sip of his drink.

The dual haired teen didn't say anything, or even change his expression. He continued his walk through the kitchen and into the hall.


	2. Two Puzzle Pieces

Okay. This is another little snippet of the plotline surrounding Blair and Kai. I seemed to get inspiration and write the exciting bits. So this is a collection of exciting bits :).

Thank you to my reviewer :), it is greatly appreciated. It is a part of a story, but as mentioned above, inspiration comes in little spurts.

Read and enjoy, with plenty of mistakes. Excuse the dodgy title too.

_Disclaimer: I don't own beyblade._

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_Two Puzzle Pieces_

She wiped the fresh tears from her cheeks. She sniffled, trying to stop her nose from dripping. She tried to cough. Apparently coughing stopped the tear ducts or something. A fact she always remembered when she shed tears. However, the cough hadn't come out as planned. It ended up transforming into a large sob that made her eyes spill even more water.

Furious, she used both hands to wipe the tears, but they just kept coming. It was useless. She surrendered. Instead, she let them take their path, rolling down her pale cheeks, hitting certain features on her face. They would then thrust themselves off the edge of her chin, as if it were cliff and disappear into abyss, being the concrete.

She was pretty sure half her face was now decorated with black blobs of mascara, but her mind didn't dwell on it. She didn't care. Her head was swimming. _Go and be a fucking traitor. _A fresh wave of tears rolled down her cheeks as she stepped off the kerb. She didn't know where she was going, and again, she didn't care. _You belong with that pathetic pack of fuckheads._

There was a screech of tires and she looked at the car beside her. An Aston Martin. She distracted herself for a moment. It didn't even register that she had stepped in front of a moving vehicle. She continued across the rest of the road and stepped on the soft green grass. She could hear the Aston's engine fire up again and race down the street.

_You're off the team._

She didn't have a team anymore.

Suddenly, it seemed like her world had fallen apart. She had been booted from her team. She had nowhere to go. Her stuff was still at her ex-teams apartment. Her mind blurted everything in one big blur, making it impossible for her to even think rationally. Everything seemed like a huge mountain. She was lacking in concentration, making her jump from one problem to another at warp speed.

_I hope you enjoy fucking Hiwatari._

She had totally forgotten about that one. How could he say that? He didn't experience the past that she and the other four Russian bladers had. He didn't know what it meant to meet people exactly like you. _Like Kai._ How can he blame her for wanting to know the Blitzkrieg boys again? How can he blame her for falling in love?

_You pathetic slut._

He was supposed to be her team mate, and now he was being a jealous, conniving, shitfaced bastard. _Cunt, more like it._ She got them to this point. They wouldn't be here if it weren't for her. She was much more powerful than any of them could dream of. She never shoved it in their face. She never blurted it to the world. She didn't want a trophy, unlike them. She just wanted to beyblade for a living.

Now, it was hardly that simple. She had known Blake for years, even Theo and Deon. She got fucked over. They all got starry eyed. With the Championships in sight, that's all they could see, their names on that trophy. She wished it was all like the old days again. She longed for those days on the beach in summer. They would train all day, swim into the early evening and take away would usually end the day.

She stopped. _Holy fuck. _Where was she? She had been so consumed by her thoughts and feelings that she had just taken off.

Tears leaked from her eyes again. "How the fuck did I get here?" she moaned to herself, collapsing in a pile on the cement.

Sobs ripped from her throat. _Where to from here?_

There was a tug on her arm. She whipped her head up and relief crashed over her like a wave. Her face softened and a small smile played on her lips. Kai. His expression suddenly dropped from his face. The outer corners of his lips dived into a straight line and his brows knitted together. He got to his knees and not long after was almost winded by the Australian. Her hands wrapped around his strong frame, desperately grabbing the material of his shirt. She sobbed again. His concerned eyes dropped to the mess in front of him.

She pressed her face into his shirt, and he could instantly feel wetness from her tears. His hands delicately dropped to her small frame. One arm reassuringly snaked around her waist whilst the other tangled itself amongst her platinum hair.

Seeing her like this was something completely different. He had seen her at her strongest, passionate, happiest, kindest, even her most vulnerable… But seeing those tears drip from her eyes, seeing her distressed, seeing her at breaking point… It made him want to take it all away. He wanted to fix it. He wanted to make it all better. He wanted to see her happy.

Before he could do that, he had to let her do this. Cry. He knew she would tell him when she was ready. His hand gently rubbed her lower back. He could feel her tears soaking the fabric that was his shirt. For some odd reason, that was okay.

Luckily, it was his black V12 Aston Martin she had run in front of. She hadn't even noticed that it was him. She had continued her scatter across the street as he raced down the street to find a park before sprinting after her. Disbelief somehow made its way into the young Russians mind. Months ago he wouldn't have guessed he would be here, feeling like this.

It somehow felt like they fit together, like two puzzle pieces; two pieces to the exact same puzzle. The Russian thought he was the only piece to his own little, lonely puzzle. However, he had been very wrong. He had been told he could never love, or be loved… but this girl was turning his world upside down and inside out.

Her azure blue eyes were now looking at him. He smiled a little. "How did you find me?" she questioned quietly, not sure where she was at, emotionally.

"You ran in front of my car," he stated with a smirk.

Her eyes widened and her mouth shaped a small 'o'. "That was you?" She was horrified.

He nodded as her eyes sunk to the ground behind the Phoenix. Noticing the dobs of mascara running down her face, he sent a thumb across both cheeks making the dark colours vanish.

"Luckily, you didn't end up on my windshield," he lifted her chin up with his index finger. She couldn't help but smile.

They stayed like this for a moment. He was still so confused about how he got here. How he got to be with her. "What happened?" His face softened as he asked.

The lioness swallowed, "Blake kicked me off the team."

Kai's expression was blank. "He kicked you off the team, two weeks before the grand final?" This was not computing.

"He presumed that I was going to swap teams," she said quietly, watching the Phoenix's face.

He frowned, deeply. "I don't…" he trailed off, getting lost in his own thoughts. His gaze dropped to her lower legs accidentally.

"A lovely excuse that disguised his hate for our relationship," The Russian's eyes suddenly looked at hers, "and my relationship with the Blitzkrieg boys," she spoke flatly, trying to disguise her boiling anger. She wiped her nose quickly with the back of her hand.

_What the fuck? _Kai's expression suddenly changed. His mouth thinned and his eyebrows dropped slightly. His jaw hardened and his eyes seemed to be a burning ruby colour. He knew there was more.

"What else did he say?" He almost spat.

She looked away from his eyes, afraid of his future expression. "He told me that I belonged with you useless pack of fuck heads," and the tears were leaking out of her eyes again, "he hoped I would enjoy fucking you," Her eyes dropped low, "and that I was a pathetic slut."

She could see his hand tense into a fist. He didn't stand. He didn't speak. He didn't even move. She knew what he was planning, but when, where and how was impossible to predict, as always when this sort of thing occured. Hardly noticeable, his hand snaked up her arm and it gently traced light circles. She looked up. However, whatever he had planned, he would do it fairly. She could trust him on that.

He had almost slipped, listening to the foul words that _he_ had thrown at her. He was about to get to his feet, sprint to his car, and drive as fast as he possible could to the Australian team's residence. He managed to keep himself under control. He wasn't sure how. So close to the championship match, he couldn't afford to stir trouble now. Not only would he lose his chance to battle Tyson again, but he would lose Blair.

He licked his teeth. _How dare he call her a slut. _He didn't care for the words that described him and his team mates. _Fuckheads. _He couldn't count the amount of times they had all been referred to in derogative terms. They never cared for what others said about them. But Blake had called Blair these derogatively filthy names. She was his team mate. His best friend, and just like that, he had turned around and stabbed her right in the back. He knew what he was going to do.

He pressed his full lips to hers and his hands grasped for her waist. Her hands touched his face, following his jaw line and lower contours, created by his high cheek bones. He knew words couldn't fix the situation. As they always say, actions speak louder than words. This action definitely expressed more than she could have imagined.

They broke apart briefly, their noses still touching. They both smiled. "Let's go home," he whispered.


End file.
